Picking up the Pieces
by MysticEyesx
Summary: Ten years ago, Edward left Forks and everyone who loved him in it, never to speak to them again until now. A accident that happened over a year ago and his release from rehab present day has sent him back to Forks, to face the demons from his past and help him get back on his feet. Forks hasn't changed, but the people in it have - including Bella. How will they take to his return?


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

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_**Picking Up the Pieces**_

by MysticEyesx

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**Chp.1**

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"_Edward,_" _Eleazar murmured, hand rested upon his shoulder. _"_Don't give up on them. They're your family—they still love you, despite everything. Just . . . give it time, OK son?_"

Edward Cullen blinked out of his reverie as the airhostess announced the plane would shortly be arriving at Port Angeles airport. He turned his head to look out of the window and the airhostess was right. Although he couldn't see anything through the fog and haze, he knew where he was. He'd know that slashing rain, fog and dreary grey sky anywhere. He had lived in it for six years of his life, which perhaps wasn't quite as long as he spent in Chicago or LA, but it was still a long time. Edward's fingers tapped feverously against the arms of the plane seats, something he knew he was doing out of nerves. He stared unseeingly through the haze of rain and fog, downwards where he could only presume the airport was somewhere down below. He wondered if they were there already, waiting for him. He wondered how they would look as he approached them and who would be there.

Somehow he knew he wouldn't be seeing Kate, Alice or Emmett there. An uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach swelled bigger. Since he had left California in the early hours of the morning, that same feeling has been present, but only now that was it hitting him like a tidal wave. He could no longer mask the feeling; he could feel his face contorting in discomfort and emotional pain. He repeated the words Eleazar murmured to him at the Los Angeles airport in his mind. He knew he wouldn't be receiving warm welcomes and hugs all around when he landed in Port Angeles. With everything he had put them through, he would be lucky enough to get a smile. Regardless, he was still scared. Scared of seeing the anger, rejection and hurt in their eyes and faces.

Beginning to feel the familiar itching sensation at the back of his mind, Edward closed his eyes and rested his head against the lukewarm glass of the window, counting to ten with slow steady breaths. Meanwhile, the plane was beginning to land, and he found himself counting to twenty before reopening his eyes. He watched through the window as the plane flew downwards and as a runway became evident through the mist, rain and fog. He tried to keep his cool, for the sake of the mother and child next to him, but his cool was slowly dissolving. But then he reminded himself that here was better than LA or Chicago—Edward didn't want to be in either of those places right now.

Before long, the plane had landed safely and people were beginning to pile off of the plane. He waited for the mother and child to leave, along with the majority of people seated around him, before pulling himself from his seat and slowly following suit. The airhostess smiled at him sweetly, wishing him a good day, to which he could only muster a grunt in return to before leaving the plane. The walk into the airport was pure agony. His shaking hands gripped tightly onto the straps of his rucksack until his knuckles were white. His eyes looked at him, darting everywhere, surveying the crowds of people hoarded in the airport. Discomfort came to him again as he joined the crowds, his suitcases and duffel bag collected.

He took the second hand to readjust the baseball cap on his head, hiding his mop of unruly bronze hair that brushed against the tips of his ears, and stuffed the sunglasses over his eyes. Then, he slowly made his way forth, eyes back to surveying the crowds once more as he trailed behind a group of tourists.

It took him barely a second to spot them through the crowds. He could have spotted them a mile off; there was no mistaking Carlisle's sun-blonde hair through the crowds of grey and black parkas. When the group of tourists parted and they came into view, Edward stopped still where he was—several feet away from them. They hadn't spotted him yet, but by the way their heads turned and eyes flickered through the crowds, he knew it wouldn't be long until they spotted him. So he took advantage of this time, taking them in inch-by-inch. They barely looked any different. Carlisle looked as if he had gained an extra ten pounds, but it was nothing extremely. Both of them looked to be in healthy physique. They looked older, which took him by unexpected surprise . . . their aging was only to be expected after so long. They were the only one's there out of his family, but again, that was only to be expected.

Just then, Esme's eyes landed on him and her entire body stiffened. Without taking her eyes off Carlisle, she raised a hand and placed it on Carlisle's chest. Carlisle looked at her and finally at him. There was a long moment of pause where they stood there, looking at each other. Edward inhaled, palms beginning to sweat, and slowly took the first step forward. Edward spotted Carlisle's arm tightening around Esme's shoulder by the way her long glossy caramel brown hair moved. But neither of them looked angry to see him, which Edward took as a good sign. The walk to them seemed to last a lifetime, all the while, Carlisle and Esme never took their eyes off him. He finally stopped when he was within talking distance of them and slowly pulled the Ray-Bans from his eyes.

"Hi." Was all he could think of in that time, but he had so much to say—_I'm sorry _was just one of them.

Esme took a sharp intake of breath. "Edward . . ." she said, her voice shook. She blinks, shaking her head a little, and attempted to compose herself. "It's . . . good to see you."

Beside her, Carlisle nodded. "You look good, son."

_Son_, he repeated in his mind slowly, and suddenly the feeling in his stomach seemed to ease off. He cleared his throat. "Thanks,"—his voice croaked—"Y-You too . . . both of you." he looked between them as he said it. ". . . Barely changed a bit."

Esme gave him a weak smile but Edward couldn't decide if it was forced.

"Let's go, shall we? We'll talk more in the car." Carlisle spoke up and Edward nodded.

He pushed his sunglasses back onto his face and the three of them slowly made their way out of the airport without making much of a scene. As they approached the doors leading out of the airport, Edward inhaled and held his breath until they stepped outside and he realised that the pathway was empty. Edward scoped up and down the sidewalk, looking for a camera in sight, but came up empty. "This way." Carlisle said somewhere beside him, pulling him out of his search. After that, Edward followed silently behind them to the parking lot and latterly Carlisle's sleek black Mercedes with tinted windows. Carlisle helped load Edward's things into the trunk before they got into the car.

Edward placed himself in the back whilst Esme and Carlisle placed himself in the front. Suddenly Edward felt like he was fifteen again, driving to Forks to live with Esme and Carlisle for the first time. Edward looked left to the two empty seats beside him and thought of thirteen-year-old Kate leaning against the window on the other side of the car, staring out into nothingness and little six-year-old Maggie using his arm as a pillow, her teddy-bear tucked tightly into her chest with her red curls in pigtails. Edward blinked and the seats were empty again, the visions of his sisters when they were thirteen and six nothing more than what they were: a memory.

They were no longer the sisters from that memory anymore. Much like he had over the past sixteen years since they moved to Forks, they had changed, but unlike Edward they had changed for the better. Maggie was fresh out of college, now working with a publishing company, and Kate was now happily married to her college boyfriend working at a major law firm. Both of them lived and worked in Seattle, at least that was what he read from the e-mails Esme sent him. Esme was the only one that kept in contact over the years—everyone else just gave up after so long. Even _her_. She almost lasted as long as Esme, but a year before . . . _everything_ . . . she stopped and he hasn't heard from her since.

A flash of large, brown doe-eyes flashed before his eyes and he almost had to physically push it away from his mind to stop the familiar pain from returning.

After a silent hour drive listening to the classical music playing on Carlisle's stereo, they finally turned onto the familiar winding road that lead to the Cullen residence. The Cullen house was on the outskirts of Forks, at the end of the long winding road that lead through the forest. Carlisle and Esme had been living in Forks long before they adopted Edward and his sisters, and even before they adopted Alice and Emmett—whom had been with Carlisle and Esme since they were toddlers. Unlike Edward and his sisters, Alice and Emmett never knew their parents—Carlisle and Esme were the only parents they've ever known.

Edward was knocked out of his thoughts when the Mercedes began to slow. He turned his head, watching as the trees disappeared and the three-story modernised Victorian house appeared into view. Nothing was different. It looked exactly the way he left it those years ago. The only thing missing was Emmett's red Jeep and Alice's canary yellow Porsche sitting in the driveway. If there was something that you had to know about the Cullens, despite their wealth, then their extravagant tastes in cars was one of them. Edward even owned an Aston Martin at some point. He doubted that Carlisle and Esme kept it after he left.

Carlisle parked and the three of them stepped out into the open air onto the driveway, their feet crunching the gravel beneath them. All three of them lingered around the car until Carlisle made the first move by walking around to the trunk, and proceeding to unload the trunk with his belongings. Edward moved to help him, heaving out the heavier things. They moved around each other with a sense of discomfort and tension, none of them speaking as Esme watched on. With luggage in hands, they made their way up the porch-steps, towards the door. As he waited for Carlisle to unlock the door, Edward look up and down the porch—his eyes finally narrowing in on the porch-swing at the very end of the porch. For a moment, he saw himself—twenty-one year old self—sitting on that very swing, cradling a brunette beauty in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, legs tucked to her left, and her eyes closed concealing those beautiful brown orbs from view. He couldn't see the expression in her eyes, but he from the faint smile on her lips he knew she was content.

Edward ducked his head, clenching his jaw, pain radiating in his chest.

Just then, Edward was distracted by the door opening with an "Ah-ha" on Carlisle's behalf.

The three of them ambled into the foyer, wordless until the door clicked shut behind them.

"Why don't we put everything upstairs first." Esme murmured softly. Although her voice was low, it was heard. The house was quiet—quieter than Edward ever remembered it. But the night Edward had left, the house was alit with noise—Emmett's bellows, Alice's screams, Esme's pleas, Carlisle's calls, and Maggie's cries. Edward's throat became thick and realised he had yet to answer; all he could muster was a simple nod. Esme and Carlisle shared a quick—but not unnoticed—glance before they ascended the staircase to the second-floor, and then continued onto the second staircase, leading them to the third floor. Edward knew where they were heading before they had even reached their destination.

On the third floor, Esme lead Edward and Carlisle to the door, at the end of the corridor. All three of them paused at the door when the sound of a beeping broke through the silence. Carlisle sighed, reaching down to pull out the beeper from his slacks pocket. "It must be an emergency—or else they wouldn't be contacting me. They know . . ."—he didn't finish. _They what?_ Edward thought. _They know that their messed up son is coming home after walking out on them ten years ago?_—"Esme . . ."—Carlisle sighed. Edward knew that tone; he had heard that tone many times before in his time here. It was the '_I'm sorry but they need me_' tone. Edward turned to look at Esme, carefully watching her reaction.

Esme's face remained passive. "Go." Was all she said.

"You sure?" he returned.

Esme nodded slowly but assuredly. "Of course."

Neither of them were looking at him as they spoke.

"I'll be home as soon as I can."

Esme shook her head. "Take your time."

He kissed her once on the cheek, and then the lips, before turning to look at Edward. "See you soon, Edward."

"Bye Carlisle."

And then he was gone, off down the staircase, leaving it as just Esme and Edward. When Edward finally pulled his eyes from the spot where Carlisle had disappeared down the staircase, he looked around to see Esme opening the door leading into his old room. Apprehensively, Edward followed behind and was shocked by what he saw. It was like he was walking ten years into the past and that was not what he was expecting. He was expecting to see stripped down walls, not posters of sports cars and his photography hung in black frames around the walls. He was expecting a simple bed in a room, not the black leather cough, the desk he worked on or the king-sized bed he once slept upon ten years ago.

Esme cleared her throat after sometime. "We—ur—couldn't bare to change anything,"—she whispered—"Just in-case . . ." she trailed off, but Edward knew exactly what she was going to say: _just in-case you came back. _There was a long awkward silence after that, to which Esme broke as she spoke again with a brighter tone of voice. "You'll find everything is in order,"—she said as she walked over to the curtains, drawing them back to reveal the wall of glass that looked out onto the forest—"I'll leave you to unpack and settle in. Dinner's at six. I'll call Tanya to let you know that you've arrived and then I'll bring you up a coffee. Still black with two sugars?" Edward nodded mutely. "I'll have it up in a few minutes."

Esme went to leave. "Esme,"—Edward made her pause at the threshold. Inhaling steadily, he spoke once more in the most sincere voice he could muster—"Thank you. Really." He could have said so much more, but for now . . . it was all he could say. For now.

Esme gave him a small smile. "Welcome home, Edward."

Edward didn't exhale the breath he inhaled until the door was shut and Esme's footsteps were echoing down the staircase. He turned and fell down onto the bed, head first. He stared into the distance for several, long silent moments before his lids slowly fell closed.

…

"_Bella," twenty-one year old Edward murmured, his voice muffled due to his face embedded into silky mahogany hair. He was sitting on the swing on the Cullen residence porch, swinging back and forth gently with one foot on the ground, with a warm soft body curled up against his. The body beneath him hummed tiredly. Edward nuzzled his face deeper into her hair, inhaling her intoxicating strawberry shampoo scent. "You should go soon,"—Edward murmured, pressing his lips into her hair—"It's dark. Your Dad will be wondering where you are."_

_Bella's fingers clenched her fingers tightly around his flimsy tee. "He knows where I am."_

_Edward chuckled. "He's going to realise one day, Bella. One day he's going to catch you in the middle of a lie."_

"_I'm not _lying _per say,_"—_Bella mumbled, slightly disgruntled—"I told him I was going to Alice's. I didn't specify who I was going to Alice's to _see. _Besides, Alice said she would cover for us."_

_Edward hummed. "That pixie is cunning and has your Dad wrapped around her pinkie like the rest of the world."_

_Bella sighed and the head moved from beneath him, maneuvering itself into the crook of his neck. "You should give her some slack, Edward. She cares about you. She just wants to get to know you."_

_Edward's jaw clenched. "Why?"_

"_Because you're her brother."_

"Emmett's _her brother."_

_Edward tightened his hold on her when he felt her warm breath against his neck and her lips press tenderly against his skin, just over the pulse-point. "Why won't you let her in, Edward? It's upsetting her. She doesn't understand what she's done wrong. She thinks you hate her . . ."—Bella pulled away—". . . You don't hate her do you, Edward?"_

_Edward looked down into a pair of wide, glittering pair of brown eyes that looked almost black in the darkness. "_Well_ she is a bit annoying . . ._"

_Bella's eyes narrowed and she pinched his arm sharply. He didn't react. He chuckled, leaning down to press his lips to hers in a passionate chaste. And then again, and again and again. ". . . Edward." She moaned his name against his lips. Edward inhaled, pressing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and relinquishing in this feeling. "Edward,"—Bella murmured his name again. Edward's lips twitched, loving the way his name sounded on her lips—"Promise me you'll make an effort with Alice."—Edward groaned. Bella pressed a finger to his lips—"I'm not asking for you to be best friends with her"—_No, that's your job, _Edward thought idly_—_"Just . . . talk to her, OK? Stop ignoring her."_

"_But she talks . . . a lot."_

_Bella giggles. "She means well." Edward cracked open his eyes stared at her for a long time. "What?" Bella cocked a brow in question._

_Edward inhaled deeply through his nose, shaking his head slightly, smirk appearing. "Nothing . . . you just can't help yourself, can you?" Bella tilted her head sideways, confusion blatant on her features. "You can't help but think of others constantly, can you?" Bella opened her mouth, trying to speak, but couldn't quite find the words to say. Edward snickered and ran a finger along her soft lips. "You're just selfless through and through, aren't you?" Bella remained silent. Edward dropped his hand and closed his eyes again. "You're too good for me."_

"_Don't." Bella pressed firm hands to his face, hand cupping his jaw, thumbs rubbing his cheekbone. "Don't start this again."_

_Edward's jaw twitched and he reached up to grab the hands on his face. "It's true though." Edward mumbled, moving her hands to his lips with his own and pressed tender kisses there. "I'm not good. I'm damaged goods and I ruin every damn good thing in my life. One day, I'm going to ruin this. One day, I'm going to break your heart . . ."_

And he did.

…

When Edward next woke up it was dark outside and his phone was buzzing from somewhere in his jean pocket, causing the bed beneath him to vibrate. He groaned, rolling onto his back without even opening his eyes, and pried his phone from his pocket. He didn't open it until the phone was held over his face. He cracked them open to unlock the phone and opened up the text message. It was his manager, Marcus. In the text, there was a link, captioned '**read this—M**'. Edward raised a brow but opened the link up nonetheless. The link sent him to a gossip page and the article was filled with photographs of him, taken by various papporazzis at different points in the past that he doesn't quite remember.

Edward read the headline:

"_**Alec Aro continues to battle for justice. Meanwhile, inside sources claim Edward Masen continues to struggle in rehab.**_"

Edward sighed and threw the phone away from him, covering his eyes with his arm. Beneath the photos of Edward, there was a photo of Alec Aro taken by paparazzi as he steps into a car. _At least his release hasn't gotten out yet,_ a monotone voice thought somewhere in the back of his head. Edward clenched his eyes tightly shut. It wouldn't be long until the word leaks though. Then, when they figure out Edward Masen is really Edward _Cullen_ since sixteen years ago, the first place they'll come looking is Forks. Eleazar seemed to think Forks would be the best place for him, but judging by the memories that were already starting to come back to him after being here for less than a day, he was starting to doubt Eleazar's judgement.

Edward rolled onto his side, picking up the phone again and sent Marcus a reply, to which he replied back instantly with a usual snarky comment. Since Edward's last manager walked out of him almost eight years ago, when he was on the verge of the fame he was at now, Marcus became his manager. He handled Edward's . . . _issues _better than his first manager had but he never tried to help him either. Marcus didn't really care what Edward did so long as he had the cheque coming through each month. It wasn't until things got rough and _that_ happened that Marcus had no choice but to assist Edward get help, but even then Carlisle did most of the arranging. Eleazar was an old friend of Carlisle's, whom was the head of a rehab facility in Phoenix and as soon as Carlisle approached Eleazar with the problem, Eleazar pulled some strings and the next day Edward was flying to Phoenix.

The past year Edward spent in Eleazar's rehab facility was long and the probably the most excruciating year of his life. Not only did Edward suffer an agonising detox, he also had to come to terms of everything he had done and fucked up over the past decade alone. Edward was lucky to have Eleazar and his wife Carmen with him every step of the way. He didn't know what he would have done without Eleazar and Carmen throughout that year. But he did know that he wouldn't be where he was now: one year clean. If it had been left to Marcus, he probably would have sent him to one of those celebrity rehabs where all the 'Hollywood' stars go, and wouldn't have lasted a month there.

Edward pulled himself from the bed, still lost in his thoughts, and padded into the en-suite bathroom through one of the doors leading off his bedroom. He walked over to the shower, turned the nozzle and stepped under the stream of water. Soon the room was filled with steam and the sound of running water. He stood for a long time under the shower, unmoving, lost in thought when another memory flashed before his eyes. This memory wasn't quite as innocent as all the ones before, but those large brown eyes were present again. Slender legs were wrapped around his waist, wet arms clutching his neck and the sound of their skin slapping together filled his brain. The sound of her panting, shrieks, breathless pleas and screams shortly followed as he pressed her harder and harder against the tiled walls.

Every scream, plea, pant and shriek he remembered caused a shiver to ripple down his spine and bursts of pleasure across his body. When he came out of the memory for a short, split second, he was supporting himself against the tiled wall and his member was stiff. He reached down, grabbed himself and immersed himself back into the ten year old memory.

When he finally made it down to the kitchen, where he had heard and smelt Esme's cooking from the first floor, he found her bustling around the stove making dinner.

"Do you need any help?"

Esme jumped with a shriek, turning around sharply and slapping a oven-gloved hand to her chest. "Edward!" she gasped.

Edward reached up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry." He mumbled, sheepishly.

"No, N-No,"—Esme struggled to catch her breath—"I had forgotten how light-footed you were."

Edward gave a strained smile. He always used to quietly leave the house in the dead of night without even making a noise, but even before he moved to Forks at fifteen, he was able to move around quickly and quietly without being noticed. Sometimes, he used to wake in the middle of the night to the sound of his mother's screams and his father's yells. He would check on Kate or Maggie and then creep downstairs to watch as their parents fought each other with fists and words.

"I'm making chicken and potato salad. You still like that, right?" Edward nodded. "Great! Carlisle will be back soon, he called only five minutes ago to say he was leaving the hospital. Coffee?"

"Yes, please." He politely muttered. "B-But I can make it myself if it's too much bother . . ."

Esme waved off his comment with a dismissive hand. "Don't be silly. Sit yourself down."

Edward obeyed, placing himself down on one of the stools around the island. He watched Esme make him a cup of coffee silently and didn't speak until the drink was placed in front of him. "Uh,"—Edward cleared his throat loudly—"Have you . . . heard from the others?" he was referring to Alice, Emmett, and his sisters.

Esme suddenly looked pained. "They're . . . struggling to come to terms with the new . . . arrangements." Edward dropped his head, staring down at the steaming coffee in front of him. "But they'll come around eventually." Then Esme placed a hand on his shoulder and repeated the words Eleazar said to him earlier. "Don't give up, Edward." Esme murmured, her voice as soft as her eyes. "They just need some time." Edward slowly nodded, knowing he couldn't expect anything more than that. "Maggie's planning to come down the week before and during Thanksgiving." Esme then said, in a brighter tone. "Work's given her two weeks leave because she worked overtime last month." Esme informed. "She seemed keen to see you,"—Edward's body froze—"She says she's missed you the most."

Edward felt his eyes brighten as his spirits lifted.

Suddenly, Thanksgiving couldn't come sooner.

**A/N: **Hello! I hope you all enjoyed this fanfic, if you did please review to let me know what you think of it thus far!


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